Farewell, Red Sox Nation

I gave everything I had to the team and received even more in return

I GREW up in Brookline just down the road from Fenway Park, living and dying with every pitch, every win or loss, and every Red Sox season that fell painfully short. My whole outlook on life changed at age 12 as my twin brother and I writhed on the living room floor, devastated by Game Six of the ’86 Series.

Had you told me then that the Red Sox would go on to raise not one but two World Series flags, I wouldn’t have believed you. And had you told the 12-year-old me that I would someday walk away from my dream job as general manager of the Red Sox completely of my own volition, I would have thought you were crazy.